


Share Your Weakness

by sparkandwolf (thatnerdemryn)



Series: How the Scene Should Have Gone - Sterek Edition [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Arm Wrestling, Banter, Coda, Developing Friendships, Episode: s04e08 Time of Death, Feelings Realization, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Powers, M/M, Stiles Stilinski Takes Care Of Derek Hale, Training, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24217882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatnerdemryn/pseuds/sparkandwolf
Summary: “You ready to tell me the truth now?” Stiles asked, not unkindly. Derek didn’t push him away like he had expected. He held a hand over his side and stared at Stiles who saw more than pain in his eyes. There was confusion, concern, helplessness. It hurt Stiles to see.“I can’t tell you anything, Stiles,” Derek said softly. Stiles went to speak, to yell at Derek for closing off again, but Derek silenced him with a glare. “I can’t tell you anything because I don’t know what’s going on.”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: How the Scene Should Have Gone - Sterek Edition [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668073
Comments: 12
Kudos: 211





	Share Your Weakness

**Author's Note:**

> This is how I think Stiles would have handled finding out about Derek's decrease in powers. This scene with Derek and Braedon was a favorite, but I _had_ to make it Sterek. 
> 
> As always, thank you to [Morgan](https://skylar102.tumblr.com/) for being fantastic and letting me rave about my ideas.

Stiles was entirely too aware of the lack of Derek in their most recent battles and he didn’t like it one bit. He knew that Derek had gotten hurt during their last fight, but that shouldn’t have pushed him away for that long. Stiles was pretty sure that Derek had a magnetic attraction to danger anyways, so he couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t around. He also couldn’t be sure why he seemed to miss his presence either. 

The first thing he saw when he entered the loft was Derek’s sleeping form on the couch. Stiles had stomped up the stairs and he wasn’t quiet with his incessant knocking on the door. Derek should have heard him or, at the very least, he should have woken up. Stiles rushed over to him, tripping over a discarded 50-pound weight before reaching Derek. He raised his hand, ready to shake Derek awake when his wrist was grabbed tightly and Derek’s eyes shot open. 

“Did you ever consider that I was ignoring you?” Derek asked before Stiles had a chance to react. He closed his eyes and tugged his wrist out of Derek’s grip. He couldn’t ignore how easy it was to pull his hand away or the way Derek flinched in pain as he stood up. His hand shot to his side and Stiles raised an eyebrow at him. 

“What’s going on, Derek?” Stiles was smart, at least, that’s what everyone always told him. He had great deductive reasoning skills and he had a way of picking up even the smallest of details that others couldn’t. No matter what Derek said, Stiles knew he didn’t hear him coming up the stairs and wasn't ready for him until he was only a few feet away. He knew that Derek was hurt a few days ago and while the wound was deep, it wasn’t the deepest Derek had ever gotten. And Stiles knew that Derek was avoiding the other wolves who would know immediately that something was wrong. 

As if Derek could hear the wheels turning in Stiles’ head, he sighed heavily. “Can you turn off your brain, please?” Derek asked, not unkindly. Stiles thought he seemed tired; there were dark circles under his eyes that Stiles hadn’t seen before and his skin was almost sickly pale.

“Why aren’t you healing?” Stiles took a stab in the dark, reaching out to the hem of Derek’s shirt and lifting it up. Derek smacked his arm away, but Stiles still saw the bandages, reddened with blood. “Knew it,” Stiles said smugly as he crossed his arms over his chest. He tried to push back the anxiety he felt seeing Derek hurt, not immediately healing like he had seen so many times before. 

“I’m fine, Stil--” Stiles scoffed and threw his hands up in disbelief. 

“Seriously?” Stiles asked. He heard Derek growl low in his chest and sighed. “Show me your eyes,” Stiles demanded, narrowing his own at Derek. Derek widened his naturally green ones and Stiles’ seemed to roll to the back of his head. “Your  _ eyes _ , Derek,” Stiles asked again, a sternness in his voice that was unfamiliar even to him. 

“Why are you here?” Derek asked, turning away from Stiles and busying himself with a few maps on the table next to them. Derek knew that the maps were an almost perfect distraction, but Stiles wasn’t going to let him get away without an answer. It didn’t matter how much he wanted to know what the maps were about, even if he found himself glancing over at them anyway. 

“I’m here to beat you in an arm wrestle,” Stiles said, hoping the cockiness in his tone would piss Derek off enough that he would accept the challenge. Derek rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, accentuating the muscles that he still had, werewolf or not. Stiles tried not to focus on them, opting instead to lean down to the table, resting his elbow on the hard surface and flexing his hand out. He glanced from Derek’s eyes to his hand, raising his eyebrows. Derek scoffed and took a step forward, leaning into Stiles’ eye level. 

“You could have werewolf strength and still not come close to beating me, Stiles,” Derek said with a soft chuckle. He let his elbow rest on the table and pressed his palm to Stiles’, his fingers wrapping slowly around the back of Stiles’ hand. Stiles felt his heartbeat quicken at how close Derek was, but if Derek heard it, he gave no indication. He just smirked at Stiles and raised his eyebrows questioningly. 

“On the count of three,” Stiles said. Derek nodded as Stiles took a deep breath in. “One, two…” Derek should have seen it coming, that Stiles was going to use his whatever strength he had before he hit number three, but Stiles pressed Derek’s arm back and it moved too easily. Derek let out a howl as he ripped his hand away from Stiles’. 

“Stop!” He pleaded as Stiles held onto his hand tightly. He thought he might have been in shock from either  _ actually _ beating Derek or from the pain in Derek’s voice. He let go when his brain caught back up and rushed toward Derek, resting a gentle hand on his upper arm. Derek’s eyes flashed at him, gold instead of the usual blue, and Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. 

“You ready to tell me the truth now?” Stiles asked, not unkindly. Derek didn’t push him away like he had expected. He held a hand over his side and stared at Stiles who saw more than pain in his eyes. There was confusion, concern, helplessness. It hurt Stiles to see. He moved closer to Derek and lifted up his shirt again, seeing the bandages practically soaked through. 

“I can’t tell you anything, Stiles,” Derek said softly. Stiles went to speak, to yell at Derek for closing off again, but Derek silenced him with a glare. “I can’t tell you anything because I don’t know what’s going on,” Derek whispered. Stiles thought he sounded like he had lost all hope and he felt his heart crack at the words. 

“Symptoms?” Stiles asked. He sounded like Deaton, always trying to put the pieces together to help out the werewolf population. Stiles wasn’t Deaton, but this was Derek. He had to do everything in his power to help him. He had no choice. 

Derek sighed and closed his eyes like he was willing them back to their natural color. When he opened them, they were back to normal and Stiles gazed into them as he waited for an answer. “Decreased strength, inability to control my eyes, my healing ability is shot,” Derek said as he gestured toward his wound. Stiles nodded and let go of his shirt, placing a gentle hand over the cut like it could soothe the pain Derek felt. It seemed to work even a little as Derek’s face softened and his hand covered Stiles’. “I can’t shift, at least, not fully. I think… I think I’m--” Stiles shook his head and rested a hand on Derek’s cheek to stop him from thinking the worst. Stiles knew that Derek was just like him in the way that his thoughts would go to the worst possible outcome. Stiles wouldn’t let himself believe that was what was happening until he knew. 

“Obviously it’s something that Kate did to you. It has to be. But why would she…?” He trailed off when Derek leaned into his touch and closed his eyes. Derek breathed in deeply and leaned down to rest his forehead against Stiles’, his breath catching in his throat at the small gesture. Stiles pushed up on his toes and into the touch, smiling softly at Derek. “We’ll figure this out, okay? We can go to Deaton or find that crazy Mexican lady? I’m sure she would have some answers,” Stiles said as he pulled away. 

Derek chuckled and shook his head before walking to the couch and sitting down. He reached for the bandages on the table before pulling off his shirt. “Help me with this?” Derek asked. Stiles could hear the vulnerability in his voice and if his heart wasn’t already shattered, it would have been in pieces at the tone. He rushed over and kneeled in front of Derek, pulling off the dirty bandages slowly, trying to ignore the pain on Derek’s face. 

“Sorry,” Stiles said lamely, grabbing the cloth from the counter to wipe away the dried blood. He focused on the task at hand, wiping at the wound before covering it with clean gauze and meticulously taping the edges before looking back up at Derek. He was watching Stiles, tilting his head like he had just made some big realization. Stiles raised his eyebrows at him and moved to sit next to him on the couch, pushing his shoulder against Derek’s softly. 

“You’re good at that,” Derek commented, sounding a bit surprised and impressed. Stiles glanced at him and laughed softly, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. 

“Human,” Stiles said as if it was obvious. “With no special werewolf healing powers, I’ve had to patch myself up a number of times.” Derek grumbled low in his chest and Stiles couldn’t help but smirk at the sound. “Relax, Sourwolf. It comes with the territory. I’ve learned a few tips and tricks on how to defend myself now, though,” Stiles said proudly. Derek seemed to think for a moment before standing up and moving the coffee table off to the side. 

“Show me,” Derek demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. Stiles gulped and looked around, before standing up and gesturing around the loft. 

“I usually have a bat,” Stiles commented. Derek huffed and rolled his eyes before walking over to the side of the couch and tossing him a crowbar. “This works, too. Do I want to know why you have this?” Stiles asked as he passed the makeshift weapon from hand to hand. 

Derek crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at Stiles. “Did you miss the part where I’m losing my powers?” Derek asked, a teasing lilt to his tone that had Stiles gaping at him. He composed himself and nodded quickly before taking a few steps toward Derek. Derek held up his hands, widening his stance like he was preparing for the fight. Stiles tilted his head and smirked, licking his lips slowly. 

“Well, you may be losing your wolf, but you sure look like you could kick my ass,” Stiles noted with a wink. Derek rolled his eyes and lunged forward, his hand reaching for the crowbar. Stiles pulled it back just in time and Derek tumbled past him, planting his feet firmly on the floor before turning toward Stiles. He thought he saw the flash of his gold eyes, but said nothing as he beckoned Derek over with his free hand, curling his fingers as he narrowed his eyes in challenge. 

“I  _ can _ kick your ass, werewolf or not,” Derek said through his teeth as he surged toward Stiles again. He grabbed Stiles’ wrist that had the crowbar and held it high before Stiles could swing down. They were face to face, Stiles noticing the few inches Derek had on him more than he ever had before. He looked up at his hand and then back at Derek, both of them frozen with their chests pressed together. 

“A lot of talk from someone who left himself completely open,” Stiles said as he lifted his knee directly into Derek’s groin. Derek’s eyes widened as he let go of Stiles’ wrist, his hands holding the front of his jeans as he grimaced. “Rule number one, everyone has a weakness. Find it and extort it,” Stiles said conversationally as he tapped the crowbar in the palm of his hand. His smirk widened as Derek stood up straight and glared at him. 

“You have these rules written somewhere?” Derek asked, slightly out of breath. Stiles felt a pang in his heart at the sound, not having heard Derek quite so vulnerable before.

“Have you met me?” Stiles asked, cocking his eyebrow. Derek tilted his head in agreement and cracked his knuckles like he was trying to intimidate Stiles. Stiles rolled his eyes overdramatically and crossed his arms over his chest as Derek eyed him up and down. “Are you looking for my weakness? Cause you’ll find about fifty of th--” Derek rushed him before he could finish, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist and pushing him backward with so much force, the crowbar flew out of his hands.

“What’s rule number two?” Derek asked as he pinned Stiles to the pillar behind them. Stiles swallowed, entirely too aware that it might have been the closest he had ever been to Derek while he could move his body. He gulped audibly and leaned his head away from Derek to try to compose himself. 

“Figure out how to disarm your opponent?” Stiles said, feeling breathless as he felt Derek’s nose brush against the pulse point in his neck. Derek was gone in a moment and Stiles breathed in like his lungs were begging for air. 

“Do you know how to disarm a werewolf?” Stiles laughed and he thought it sounded broken. He tried to stop himself from missing Derek’s warmth against him, but it answered a lot of questions he had running through his head throughout the last few weeks. 

“If I knew how to disarm a werewolf, I wouldn’t need the bat,” Stiles retorted as he ran a hand through his hair. The chuckle that left Derek’s lips was surprising to Stiles, unused to hearing Derek carefree enough to let any sounds of joy escape him. Stiles couldn’t say he didn’t like it, though. 

“Wanna learn?” Derek asked, his voice soft. Stiles took a step closer to him and narrowed his eyes.

“Aren’t I supposed to be teaching you how to be human?” Stiles asked with a raise of his eyebrow. Derek rolled his eyes, but Stiles didn’t see the usual annoyance. He tried to think back to when he and Derek had started this casual friendship and when Stiles had started to want more but was interrupted by Derek’s hand grasping his wrist. Instead of pulling away as he would have even weeks ago, Stiles stood up a little straighter. 

“Werewolves are still human, Stiles. Which means they have human weaknesses,” Derek started. He squeezed the skin on either side of Stiles’ thumb with his own index finger and thumb and Stiles cried out, pulling his hand to his chest and staring up at Derek offendedly. 

“What the hell, Derek!” He exclaimed as he rubbed his palm. 

Derek just smirked at him. “That’s a pressure point for both humans and wolves. Press it and their claws will retract.” Stiles stared at him, bewildered. He would have never thought of something that simple. He hummed for a moment and then stepped back toward Derek again. 

“What else?” Stiles asked. Almost the minute his sentence ended, Derek’s hand slid around his neck. Stiles felt his breath catch in his throat as Derek’s thumb pressed against the rapidly beating pulse in his neck. 

“That’s the carotid. Wolves instinctually aim for it with their teeth or claws. Once you’ve solved the claw problem…” Derek’s thumb pressed harder against his neck, the rest of his fingers gentle against his exposed skin in a way that had Stiles’ skin prickling with excitement. “Press as hard as you can. Necks are a werewolves Achilles heel. No matter how much or how little strength you have, they’re powerless against it,” Derek said softly as he lessened the pressure on Stiles’ neck. Stiles resisted the urge to hold his hand in place as Derek pulled away. 

“Necks,” Stiles said dumbfounded. “Who would have thought?” He asked as a dry huff of laughter escaped his breathless lungs. He held his hand over his chest, grateful that Derek might not be able to hear its erratic beat in his chest. 

“Wolves don’t often trust humans with our greatest weaknesses,” Derek admitted as he sat back down on the couch. Stiles noticed a small amount of blood seeping from his bandages and cursed to himself before taking a few steps toward Derek. He stopped when Derek lifted his hand and shook his head. “I got this one. Isaac will be here any minute so you should probably…” Derek motioned toward the door and if Stiles didn’t know any better, he would have thought he saw the reluctance in the gesture. 

Stiles sighed as he glanced over at the awaiting door, feeling his own reluctance to leave. “I’m gonna figure this out,” he promised, nodding slowly at Derek as he backed toward the door. Derek smiled softly at him and nodded back. 

“If anyone can, it’s you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> In the words of [Morgan](https://skylar102.tumblr.com/): "YOU TELLIN ME THEY DON'T KISS AFTER THIS?!" 🤷🏻♀️
> 
> I truly hope you enjoyed this. I have a [Tumblr](https://sparkandwolf.tumblr.com) specifically for my Sterek obsession so feel free to follow it for updates and snippets and other Sterek content and use my ask to send me prompts, coda ideas, or just scream with me about Sterek. 
> 
> Also, feel free to follow my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/thatnerdemilyj) and let me know what you think. 
> 
> Please, please, please let me know your thought in the comments and leave kudos if you enjoyed it!


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